Making Hay

Good Evening! Well now isn't this weather jolly. It is still here which is quite peculiar. The usual UK heatwave tends to end within 48 hours or a week at the very most. This one seems intent on staying put. Although I have been sweating profusely and complaining a wee bit about the heat in our bedrooms at night, I have also been doing my own fair share of 'making hay' whilst the sun still shines.  We have had a fabulous weekend playing croquet and having ice cream at mum's, an awesome weekend by the sea, I have washed my duvet (you can really only do this during a guaranteed heatwave) and just this afternoon I have thrown my very first pool party. Such larks.

So, let's get on with the show. Firstly I have to make an editorial apology - it would appear that either the headmistress of G's school reads my blog and took action or somehow we got the wrong information because the teacher I feared would be heading up G's class next year, is in fact, not going to be. Instead we have been blessed with a fab male teacher who also just happens to be, in my opinion, a bit of a silver fox looks wise so I don't even care about the teaching quality.  I am now very much looking forward to drop off and pick up in September AND it will be the best incentive I could hope for to spur me on to look my best and shed the excess weight I still appear to be carrying around. Phew. And I should state for the record, now that she isn't going to be teaching my son, that the teacher I was a tad rude about last time is an entirely adequate and likeable one and I apologise for referring to her as a pavement slab. I don't know what I was making all the fuss about, I was clearly having a bad day. To anyone who does have her next year - don't worry.

In other ranting updates, K's jury service is also coming to an end. By next week he should be back in work and bringing home the bacon once more. I should also state after my rant last time, that we hit upon the idea of asking if K could take the 'extra' time off after the paid two weeks, as holiday, which will mean that he will be paid for the entire time he is out of the office. Phew again. Although poor K, who now only has our one week's family holiday as time off between now and January, but as we both agreed, we'd rather have the money than time with him. Not in a nasty way. Just in a very pragmatic one.

What else. Oh yes, Ted is back. And, as suspected, after the initial excitement of his return, he was quite tiresome for a few days but has now settled back in to the routine of our world and not Grandma's, where every day offers a new opportunity to buy toys, and his usual mix of adorable and bloody hard work. He wasn't desperately keen to come home to ours actually and I had to bribe him to leave. I was a TAD offended but I could understand why he was reluctant. At Grandma's he received 100% of the attention and held 100% of the purchasing power so he was in his element. The percentages are entirely different when he is at home....

The weather. As stated, it is indeed lovely. It would be even lovelier if I were by a pool on holiday. Stuck in London where the temperatures are reaching 33 degrees, it can, at times be a tad tiresome. Especially when you have small children who can't sleep in the heat and when you are fat. I have officially run out of suitable summer clothes to wear - I am flashing legs and arms and all kinds of fatty deposits in an attempt to stay cool.  The other day I wore a dress which I suspect is actually a nightie. I know it was definitely maternity. This is not a great state of affairs. Very soon I shall be wearing a sheet I have fashioned in to a maxi dress by cutting a hole in it. I need to find cheap, suitable clothing options and soon.

However, back to the lovely side of the sun. It did make our British seaside mini break feel very holiday like. We rented a house off a friend of a friend in Broadstairs and had a proper portion of beach related fun. It was most jolly. Although it was a bit of a shock. We have only ever been to the Kent seaside town either side of the summer holidays, not in actual high season, and the busy beach in the sun was not just crowded, it was totally jam packed. Mostly with young people. It was eye boggling. The teenagers were not only noisy, filled with booze (and their own self importance) and incredibly scantily clad (It was like a Club 18-30s Battery farm) but the air was blue with the language. It was unbelievable. It would appear that the F word is something of a 'buzz' word for the youths and every time you walked passed one or they walk passed you the word sprang up at least once if not many times in quick succession. The children had an extremely interesting education - particularly Bea who had some youths hanging around under her bedroom window as she tried to sleep. She informed us in the morning that she heard 'every' rude word there was - including the 'H' one. K and I were trying to work out what that was - I hoped for 'hate' but another mother pointed out that it was probably 'Whore'. Nice. Still, regardless of the blue air it was just fabulous to be by the sea - it makes me feel so happy. Bea had a great time in the sea - she literally had to be dragged from the waves when her mouth turned blue and she couldn't stop shivering. I think the greatest pleasure I shall ever derive in life is from seeing my children walk in to a warm sea. I literally can't think of anything better. It will blow their tiny minds.

The only fly in the ointment of our mini seaside sojourn was that K's jury service meant that he couldn't come down with us on the Friday morning so I did the whole day on my own - including packing up, driving down, unpacking (no parking with the house so actually that was more of a feat than you might imagine), trip to the beach and back and then filling the bath with various saucepans and kettles of hot water as the pilot light was out on the boiler and I had absolutely no idea how to relight it. It was incredibly fun nonetheless and the arrival of K at storytime sent the children's excitement levels sky rocketing further. We had an action packed Saturday all together, but then I sadly had to leave with Cybs to get back to London so that I could make a very early morning trip to west London on Sunday, to become a very important person. Yes, I was anointed Godmother to the beautiful Harry at a 10am church service in sunny Wandsworth. It was a long service, but most definitely worth it.  I very much enjoyed my time as a temporary VIP.  It did sadly mean that I had to leave Keith with the other three children to conclude our mini break, but he did sterling work and took them for lunch, mini golf and a very large knicker bocker glory before bringing them home. So they couldn't give a flying fig that I wasn't there to enjoy it with them. And once I'd tucked in to the feast and Champagne back at Sporty Godmother's gaff to celebrate Harry's day, I began to care a lot less as well.

And that brings us up to today. The final day of term (not technically - there are still two days to go but I have written letters and excused the big two from these totally pointless days). So I have done my final school run for this academic year (wahoo) lie ins and lazy days are on my immediate horizon and we are soon to be packing up and preparing to move to our country residence (chez mother) where I shall fully embrace the excitement of the heatwave.  We had a great final hoorah to the term this afternoon with a pool party for Cybs' first Birthday (owing to the end of term and the need for a Friday fixture in our social calendar I decided to celebrate her first Birthday around the time that I hoped she would arrive and had assumed she was due - not her technical day of birth which as we all know was far too bloody late. And our paddling pool is decently sized and is affectionately known as 'the pool' - G has also christened the downstairs loo 'the changing rooms' which does make our scrap of earth at the back of the house sound terrifically grand). So from midday onwards, The Lunching Ladies of roundabouts descended upon our humble abode and partook of food, drink and watery entertainment for the children until school pick up time.  I have never had a summer baby before so this whole partying outside malarkey is all very new to me. I like the possibilities it presents - our inaugural summer party was a lot of fun and I am looking forward to many more. Anyway, it was a fabulous way to say goodbye to the year and to 'cheers' Cybs for making it through her first twelve months (almost).  Any minute now I am sure she will sleep through the night and give up her insatiable need for breastmilk - she is still entirely convinced that any other milk is poisonous - although she will happily drink filthy water from a puddle, bath water and any other liquid she can lay her hands on, which is slightly odd. Still, she isn't a year yet. Maybe when she reaches her technical year milestone she will have a stupendous epiphany and lap the white stuff up like it's going out of fashion. I really hope so as her teeth are beginning to cause me actual bodily harm.

And that my friends is about that. I think. I shan't bore you with their reports. They can do stuff with varying rates of success, blah blah blah. Ooh but I shall tell you that Bea has received her certificates and marks for her dance exams. She did very well with a Distinction, a highly commended (same as distinction but different exam board) and two Merit awards. And more exciting than that, she received our first ever 'trophy'. It is a small rectangular plastic thing but, very crucially it has her name etched on to it which means it will go down in history as the first trophy for our trophy cabinet. (We don't have one but clearly we will need to invest in one in the future).  That is really about it, other than a thoroughly enjoyable night last night with some old work colleagues - one of whom lives in Beijing and I haven't seen for seven years, that is the last few weeks in a nutshell. I have been out, to the seaside and happily at home in the sun. I have also managed to wash my duvet. All of these things fill me with joy.

Long live the Great British Summer. Over and out.

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